


Covered

by quaint_camera



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Drunkenness, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kink Meme, M/M, Mild Language, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-06-27
Updated: 2011-07-02
Packaged: 2017-10-20 23:21:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/218215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quaint_camera/pseuds/quaint_camera
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drunk shenanigans. Charles gets drunk one night and stumbles his way into Erik's room. Erik wakes up with Charles' clothes draped all over him because Charles thought he looked cold.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [lotsakeychains](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=lotsakeychains).



> Fill for [this prompt](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/4418.html?thread=6142530#t6142530) on [the X-Men: First Class kink meme 1stclass_kink](http://1stclass-kink.livejournal.com/4418.html#comments) for [lotsakeychains](http://lotsakeychains.livejournal.com/).

Scrubbing a warm washcloth roughly over his face, Erik wished he would diminish the buzz he felt from the pure excitement of the busy day of training, but he knew from experience that it was going to take awhile for his mind to calm down and match up to his body. The face that stared back at him in the mirror was slack-jawed, dull-eyed. Exhausted.

 _It's okay,_ he thought at his body. _You don't need any more adrenaline. It's safe to sleep._

With a sigh, he hung the washcloth back on the small circular rung that dangled from on the side of the sink, feeling the metal sing under his fingertips as he did so. It annoyed him, that he was still so sensitive, but that's what this had been all about, hadn't it? Learning to use his powers better... so that he would kill Shaw, and make him feel it. Derail the smug son-of-a-bitch.

He took a sharp step backwards. The circular rung, the washcloth hooked over it, was standing upright--he'd inadvertently called it to himself. _Control,_ he admonished himself, exiting the bathroom with a barely-stifled yawn. _I need sleep, and desperately._

His head ached, filled with ringing, resonant tones of metal. He frowned, realizing that his tongue tasted like copper, as if he'd been sucking on a penny. Way weird.

He shed his robe from his shoulders on the way to the bed, letting it fall where it would and climbing single-mindedly into it. When his head hit the cool pillow, he closed his eyes and did not even recognize when the bliss of silence came to him suddenly.


	2. Chapter 2

"Oooof!"

Grunting in frustration, Charles splayed a hand out against the wall to steady himself, and to make a clumsy, desperate attempt to discover the light switch. _Telepathic I may be,_ he thought, _but unfortunately, inanimate objects don't have thoughts, so I can't instinctively know their location._

It felt like he was moving through a thick liquid, his arms floundering helplessly and awkwardly. Even in the complete darkness, his vision swam with spots and color. The part of his mind that was still fully himself knew he looked ridiculous, half-slouched against the wall as he was, and was slightly embarassed by it, even though he knew nobody was around to see him in this pathetic state. Try as he might, he simply couldn't find the strength to raise himself fully upright. His limbs felt too floppy and loose...

 _It's a wonder I haven't fallen over already._

Worst of all, his head was going to _explode_ if the painful throbbing went on much longer. He pressed his fingers into his temple in a gesture that usually meant he was contacting other minds, except this time he was trying to shut even his own out, if such a thing were possible.

"Oh, bother..." he muttered.

 _I'm almost there. Can't let the kids find me passed out or anything dreadful like that. What would they think, how would they react? They would have no respect for me anymore. I'm great at giving advice, but when it comes to being a role-model, or advising myself, I'm a hopeless failure... yes, hopeless..._

As he lowered his hand from his head, it brushed against some protrusion and he jumped, then nearly whooped with joy when he realized it was the very switch he'd been searching for. Flipping it bathed the room in an overwhelming glow that made his head pulse, and he threw up his arms to cover his eyes. When he finally dared open his eyes and fight the brightness, his stomach immediately sunk.

 _This isn't my room._

A strained glance at the bed confirmed it. Erik was lying on it, breathing gently, a hand resting lightly against his stomach. He's restrained even in sleep, Charles observed, with a touch of fondness. There's nothing sloppy about him. The stern face had slacked somewhat , but otherwise looked exactly the same as always.

"Ugh, _so_ not groovy..."

The dilemma he was in sunk in suddenly. It rushed to his head, so that he staggered forward wildly and managed to crash into the side of the bed and keep himself from faceplanting into the floor. He grabbed at the sheets, his heart pounding at an unhealthy rate. He watched with fearful eyes as Erik's bare chest rose and fell and he murmured softly to himself, but did not awake.

He breathed a great sigh of relief, his body growing languid... He felt drowsiness welling up in him, wanted nothing more than to crawl up into the bed and share the warmth of Erik's body heat, earn a blessed respite from the one-too-many drinks he'd consumed at one of his favorite pub downtown... What was the name of it? It escaped him... it was all a blur... How many had he drank?

His head nodded forward, but he forced it back up. The training had given him restless energy, too... energy that even racing Hank at various intervals throughout the day hadn't diminished. There was just something about drinking that calmed his nerves.

He sat back on his haunches, rubbing his horribly heavy eyes. He shrugged out of his cardigan and let it plummet, then took hold of the front of his shirt, sliding it up and over his body and tossing it to the side. Using the bed as support, he stood unsteadily upright and undid the front of his trousers, letting them drop down around his ankles.

Gritting his teeth as Erik's image tilted and spun before him, he yanked off the rest of his ensemble before rolling sideways onto the bed. He lay there for a moment, panting, and fighting down the dizziness, closing his eyes. _Calm your mind,_ he urged himself. The mantra he often repeated to Erik now sounded cheap and hollow as he applied it to his own situation. _Calm..._

A cool breeze on his back made him crack his eyes open and wriggle closer to Erik's delicious warmth and away from the half-open window. He was careful not to get too close, however. Erik had this thing about personal space, and he wouldn't appreciate it being invaded without warning, even in sleep.

There. It was somewhat better now. At least he was getting a little more warmth. He sighed contentedly, but then he heard a strange noise... quiet clattering. Without meaning to, he melted briefly into Erik's mind and felt clearly his discomfort. _He's cold,_ Charles realized, _just like I am. He forgot to cover himself up. He must have really been exhausted..._

He moved to pull the covers up over them both, but Erik was lying full-fleged on top of them... and yanking them out from beneath his body would certainly wake him up, which definitely wasn't an option, not at this point. He could just imagine Erik's confusion... _What are you doing in my bed?_ He could just imagine the anger and sputtering and questioning. _Why are you drunk? Who were you with? Why didn't you tell anyone you were going out?, blah blah blah and so-forth..._

Erik's long, lean body shuddered again and he moved restlessly in his sleep. It was this movement that stirred Charles from his hazy daydreams. He'd never be able to rest if his friend was in such discomfort... but maybe he was only sensing it so strongly because his mental barriers were somewhat diminished? He was drunk, after all... wasn't he? Either way, he needed to do something and be done with it _so I can get to sleep already!_

Groaning, he stuck out an arm and fumbled at the floor until he grasped fabric--his cardigan, his shirt... Perfect. With great effort, he draped the soft cardigan over Erik's exposed chest as unobtrusively as he could, tucking it as neatly around him as he could manage with his fingers that felt too-large and clumsy. He put the shirt on top, too, just for good measure, before patting Erik's now-covered hand affectionately as he gave a great, swelling yawn. An unreasonable burst of satisfaction was his last feeling before everything swirled into darkness.


	3. Chapter 3

Erik woke with something soft nuzzling his shoulder and upper arm. A quick twist of his head to the right confirmed his visitor's identity. Soft, dark hair... Charles was tentatively curled up to his side, his head snuggled against Erik's shoulder. He was breathing softly through his open mouth, and looking even more boyish in sleep, despite the faint traces of stubble.

 _Charles, what the hell?_

But even in his mind, it seemed more like a grumble than genuine annoyance... until he caught a whiff of Charles' breath as he exhaled. It carried the sweet, unmistakable scent of his friend's favorite alcohol.

"Charles!" he barked out, sternly.

"Wha-wha...? _Huh?!_ " Charles spluttered, jerking awake and erratically upright, rubbing furiously at his eyes and face with both his fists. Erik watched him narrowly, nearly bursting with impatience but restraining himself for the time being... if he played this right, he could guilt Charles into an apology. Damned if he was going to let the kid charm himself out of this one.

Charles was now blinking heavy-lidded, barely-alert blue eyes at him in what Erik assumed was an attempt to recognize his face. "Ah, Erik..." he managed, with a weak, relieved chuckle. "You frightened me."

Erik's scowl deepened, enhancing the many creases on his face as he tried to keep his eyes from drifting down to Charles' torso. "Obviously I haven't frightened you enough," he observed. "You still seem to think I'm your teddy bear or something."

For the first time, Charles' eyes widened in some semblance of alertness, and he flushed, perhaps for the first time realizing the situation he was in. "I--I... I apologize, Erik, truly I do. I was--"

" _Drunk?_ " Erik sneered, unwilling to let him have the upper hand in this conversation. "Is that the word you're looking for? Yes, I know you were, my darling Charles. That's all you ever are, if you'll pardon my saying so."

A hurt expression manifested on Charles' face, his mouth dropping halfway open in shock. "Erik..." he began, in an attempt to quell the other man's anger.

But Erik was having none of it. "No," he growled back. "If you really cared about me, you wouldn't go out and drink without so much as telling anyone... especially downtown! It's dangerous! You could get... I don't know, kidnapped or some shit! ...And don't say you told somebody, because I know you didn't. You have this crazy idea in your head that nobody can see your weaknesses or the world goes 'boom.' Oh yeah, you can peek into everybody else's mind as much as you want, but when it comes to anybody even glancing into yours, you can't stand the idea! It's infuriating, and it's unfair!"

He squeezed his eyes shut, not wanting to see the wounded expression the Charles' face and knowing that it was true, all of it, and needed to be said. _And nobody else will say it but me..._

"You can't--" His voice trembled despite himself. "You can't keep taking, Charles... you can't keep taking and expect not to have to give, do you understand?"

He opened his eyes and found Charles sitting there looking at him with the greatest sorrow that Erik had ever seen, as only he had the capacity to do. His blue eyes were incredibly light and shone with unshed tears. He was biting down on his lip, a nervous habit he had, and the spot where his teeth were digging in was quickly reddening. Despite Charles' tousled hair and disheveled appearance, it was impossible not to feel a little twinge grip his heart.

"My friend..." Charles looked at him steadily, something that Erik could only compare to the call of metal to magnet, sucking him in so deeply that he couldn't have looked away if he'd wanted to...and why would he want to? _Charles is so beautiful..._ "I am so sorry. I didn't realize... I should have known..." His dark lashes fluttered before two tears trickled so quickly down the side of his face Erik almost didn't see them.

"I didn't know I was hurting you," Charles managed. "I would never, never have done that on purpose. Do you hear me? _Never..._ " This he whispered.

And Erik couldn't take it anymore.

He sat up, Charles' clothes rolling off off his chest and into his lap, and clutched Charles to him. "I'm sorry too," he whispered, his voice raspy, clenching his eyes shut. His throat felt constricted. "I didn't want to do it, I just had to make you see..." He pressed his face into Erik's soft, wavy hair, unable to continue.

Charles' hands rubbed soothingly up and down his back. "Yes, yes, I know... it's okay, Erik, it's okay. I know."

Sometime later, when they were lying down again, Erik heard Charles' voice saying, "Thank you."

He laughed when he felt Charles' lips press a kiss against his cheek. "...Thank you?" he repeated, sleepily. "For what, Charles?"

Using his nose, Charles nuzzled down the length of his neck before replying, "For being strong enough to tell me that. For not being afraid to hurt me. People think that just because I'm filled with the noise of all these minds that I'm fragile... but you didn't treat me that way, and I thank you for it, my friend."

Erik opened his eyes and gazed up at the beautiful young man who hovered over him, his blue eyes worshipful. "You're not fragile, Charles. You're... sensitive." He wriggled deeper down into the bed. "It's different."

The explosion of mirthful laughter from Charles made something stir in him, something warm and comfortable and right, something so close to perfection he literally ached with it. There was nothing wrong, nothing in the world. Except...

There was some kind of lumpy bulge beneath him. After a moment of frowning, he shifted, but to no avail, and finally, just as he was about to sit up and full-on investigate, he felt Charles' hand close around his arm.

"What is it? I can sense you're uncomfortable."

"There's something..." He hesitated, knowing it would sound weird, but tact had never been one of his strong suits, so he plunged on anyway. "....underneath me."

"Underneath you?" Charles wasn't laughing, but he did sound disbelieving. "What do you mean?"

Erik sighed. "Never mind..."

"Oh!" Charles exclaimed, a breathless little giggle escaping him. He really could be so childish sometimes.

Inwardly, Erik rolled his eyes. "What?" he demanded flatly, without opening his eyes.

"Those are my clothes."

"Your clothes?!" Erik peeked open, eyeing his companion, who was clad only in his boxers, just as he was. "Well, okay, but why the hell are they _underneath me_ , of all places?" he asked, worming upward and shoving them irritably out from under his backside before lying back down again, hands folded over his stomach.

It wasn't until he realized that Charles was being strangely quiet that he glanced over again. His friend was numbly gathering the clothes into his lap, his expression dead. None of the laughter from before, none of the joy, not even any of the heartbreaking sorrow.

"What is it?" Erik said, quickly, sitting up. "Did I do something?"

Charles looked up, smiling sheepishly. "Oh no, you didn't do anything." But his cheeks were rosy.

"C'mon. If I did, don't spare my feelings. Just tell it like it is."

His grin only grew. "That seems to be your motto, my friend--tell the truth, no matter how dirty it may be." He paused. "I rather like it. Such a relief. Everything you say and do matches up completely with what is in your mind. It's... refreshing." And then he blushed again, as if he thought he had said too much.

Erik cleared his throat. He was having difficultly acting so stern when Charles was just so damn charming that he just wanted to take him up in his arms and kiss him senseless. "That's quite the compliment," he said tenderly, "but I'm not going to let you change the subject that easily. Explain the clothes."

"O-oh." Charles was immediately nervous again. "It's just... well, when I came in last night... I didn't mean to... but as you know, I was intoxicated... so my mental barriers weren't the best at the time, and I sensed your weren't comfortable."

"Huh?" Erik blurted, obviously not understanding.

"Ah, what I mean is," Charles went on, "you were... cold. Shivering. You forgot to put your blankets on, so I covered you." He looked away, breaking eye contact. Funny how he could be so confident when it came to others, but when it came to himself, his own choices...

Erik felt a smile spreading across his face. "You covered me?"

Biting his lip again, Charles nodded.

"With your _clothes?_ " He couldn't help the mocking way it came out. Nor could he help the roaring laughter that followed. "Oh, you really were drunk!" he said when he could speak again. "The brilliant geneticist, 'Professor X', covers me up with his own clothes to keep me warm instead of just using a spare blanket! Charles, that's hilarious."

And Charles was pouting, his reddened lips literally pooched out and his eyes all wide and betrayed. Unfairly, Erik felt as though he had just kicked a puppy and tried to tell himself he hadn't.

"It's not," Charles said briskly, his voice clipped. "Not any more hilarious than the hangover I am currently experiencing and which your obnoxious laughter is not helping to alleviate in the slightest."

"I'm sorry," Erik said, but it came out sounding more like a sneer.

Charles just glared at him.

"...Would you like me to get you a glass of water?"

"If I wanted your shitty glass of water," he sniffed, "I could just tell your mind to go do it and off you'd go." He smiled slyly. "You'd never even know it was me who suggested the idea to you."

Erik only smiled; his heart felt full to bursting with love. "Fortunately, I know you'd never do something like that. You'd feel guilty about it afterward if you did. I know you would."

"You're right," Charles sighed, shoulders slouching in defeat. He yawned without bothering to cover it up, and irrationally, Erik found it adorable.

 _Adorable? Since when do I even let myself think that word?!_

"I really just wann' go back to sleep, 'rik."

He smiled. "Sleep then, Charles."

All too willing to oblige, he flopped back onto the bed, tucking a hand under his head. He couldn't resist peering up one last time, however. "Aren't you going to sleep too?" he asked, his voice soft and sweet as a child's.

"Of course I am," Erik responded gently. "If you'll wait a moment."

What is it about him that always makes me feel like he's so much more mature than I am? He continued with these irritable thoughts as Erik bent at the waist, as if he were retrieving something from the floor. Charles didn't much care what he was reaching for; his eyes were riveted on the muscles of his back as they flexed and he thought of how good it felt to run his hands over that skin...

"Close your eyes," Erik said suddenly, startling him.

Blushing because he'd been interrupted in the middle of his slightly lusty thoughts, he obeyed, wanting desperately to read Erik's mind to find out just what he was planning, but resisting. "Erik...?" he asked, when he didn't hear anything.

"Patience, Charles. Isn't that what you always say?"

Now he was fuming. He hated having his own lines used against him. All his anger was forgotten, however, once he felt something being spread over his chest. He opened his mouth to ask what it was, but Erik merely shushed him. He felt something else being placed over him, something heavy...

 _Erik's jacket!_ he realized. It was the leather one he wore frequently, and smelled of him... infused with tobacco and a hint of sweat and that musky scent he always carried that filled his nostrils. He could never quite figure out what it was, but he loved it.

"You can open your eyes now," Erik said, voice silky.

Charles did so, immediately glancing down at his chest. Sure enough, Erik's jacket was tucked around him, and underneath that rested the green turtleneck he'd been wearing yesterday. He was sure he was gaping. The expression on Erik's face was smug, his lips twisted up slightly, his hazel eyes dancing. Before he knew what was happening, his lips were being captured by Erik's own, and he moaned into the kiss before Erik pulled away, creating a loud sucking noise.

"Thank you..." Erik murmured, almost inaudibly, his fingertips brushing Charles' arm, moving up to cup the side of his face. "Thank you, Charles."

"F-for what?" he asked, breathlessly.

"For caring about me. For treating me like I'm fragile. Because I am, Charles. Without you, I... I'd break. I don't know how I've been without you all my life. I don't know what I would do without--" He broke off, turning away as he fought off tears for the second time.

 _God, I am so weak, so very very weak... I hate myself. Why do I have to be like this? Why must I have this weakness in me?_

 _...You're not weak. You're hurt. It's different, and it's okay. It's okay to feel pain. It's okay to let yourself cry, my friend. I do it all the time. I see so much pain... I can't help it. You're the same way, Erik._

Charles. Sitting up now, rubbing his back. A comforting presence in his mind and against his skin, the rich, encouraging voice he so loved, soothing him, urging him.

 _Calm your mind, dear friend... Calm your mind._

A few shaky, gasping breaths and he was okay again, enough to smile crookedly down at Charles, who merely pulled him down to the bed. Exhausted, Erik gave in and lay down on his side, not minding in the least this time when Charles snuggled up against his back, spooning him, resting his chin in the crook of his neck and sighing happily in his ear.

"See?" he whispered. "There are better ways to fight it, Erik. Better ways than anger. We can be the better men, even if it's hard."

Erik grunted. "...You'll always be the better man to me."

Charles just pressed a kiss into his friend's shoulderblade and smiled helplessly... In his way, Erik had just told him "I love you."

They said nothing more until sleep came and covered them both.

**Author's Note:**

> [Covered @ livejournal](http://quaint-camera.livejournal.com/1538.html)
> 
>   
> 
> 
> [Covered @ fanfiction.net](http://www.fanfiction.net/s/7201916/1/Covered)


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